


Five Times Steve Got Wrecked, and A Surveillance of the Damage Afterward

by LizzieHarker



Series: The Arrowsverse [26]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 5+1, Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Birthday Smut, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve, Bucky is just as big a sap as Steve, Dirty Talk, Edible Body Paint, Emotional Porn, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, POV Steve Rogers, Schmoop, Steve Rogers is a little shit, Steve gave Buck five orgasms for his birthday and now Buck is one-upping him, Steve's 100th birthday, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Bucky Barnes, minor redecorating, super soldier refractory period
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 04:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15307290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzieHarker/pseuds/LizzieHarker
Summary: Bucky grinned, filthy and self-satisfied. “Happy birthday, babydoll. Glad you liked your first present.”“Mmmm, is my birthday. Big one-oh-oh,” Steve said. He’d been looking forward to whatever Buck had planned; downside of having his birthday after Bucky’s was whatever Steve did for him, Buck would do a million times over for Steve. He honestly didn’t know whether to expect a low-key day together or a marching band playingStar Spangled Manwherever they went.Then Steve’s brain caught up to him and he cracked an eye open. “Wait. First?”





	1. One and Two: Blowjobs and Breakfast

The mattress shifted and Steve, still muzzy from sleep, reached out toward Bucky. They always slept curled into one another, but Steve’s wandering hand found only warm, empty space before soft lips pressed against his furrowed brow. “Stay in bed,” Bucky whispered above him. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve snuggled back down into the pillows, a small smile on his face. Buck knew Steve wouldn’t fall back asleep, but he’d pretend and be good if that’s what Buck wanted. He loved that man more than anything. Of course, then Steve _did_ wake up a second time, to the smell of pancakes and bacon, eggs, his favorite tea, and the sensation of one warm and one slightly cooler hand drifting down his chest. A kiss at his right hip, a nip at his left, followed by Bucky licking a stripe along the underside of Steve’s cock. Automatically, Steve’s hips shifted and he spread his leg, giving Bucky more space, inviting. Morning blow jobs were on Steve’s list of favorite ways to begin the day.

Bucky laughed against his skin, gentle. “No running today. Just you and me and all the time in the world.” The cool touch of his metal hand ghosted along Steve’s dick, teasing, then drifting lower to press against his hole. 

Steve scrambled to catch hold of Bucky’s hair, but caught only smooth blanket. Bastard. Of course he hid under the covers. Bucky graced him with another kiss, focusing his attention on lapping at Steve’s already leaking head. One prying metal digit pressed into his perineum and Steve arched, wanting to press into Bucky’s mouth or make Bucky slide his fingers deep, barely holding himself back. 

“Never could wait to open your presents, could ya, Stevie,” Bucky said, his breath cooling the wetness on Steve’s cock, causing him to shiver. “Can’t blame you.” 

Bucky had always known just what Steve wanted. A moan forced its way from his throat as Bucky sucked him gently, then took him deep. Somehow Steve managed to shift enough of the bedding away to tangle a hand in Bucky’s hair, alternately petting and grasping as his lover worked him over. That familiar spark lit hot in Steve’s belly, his blood going electric with want. He wouldn’t last long, already caught up and burning. Buck had always possessed a talented mouth, whether smarting off or driving Steve speechless. Steve could fill a book with the ways that man could use his tongue, if he somehow managed to remain conscious long enough to write it all down. It’d been a gift, and Steve felt goddamn grateful that it was all his, that Buck was all his, that he got to wake up to the man he loved every goddamn morning—

He arched up, chest heaving, head thrown back and Bucky’s name on his lips as he came, hard and quick. Bucky drank him down, still swallowing and lapping at Steve's cock after he was spent. Buck waited for Steve’s pulse to slow and his breath to even out before kissing his way back up Steve’s chest. He felt the flush in his skin as Bucky settled atop him, finally kissing the tip of Steve’s nose. It took a long moment for Steve to come back to himself, his blood buzzing, his heart full. “Good—Good morning to you, too,” he managed.

Bucky grinned, filthy and self-satisfied. “Happy birthday, babydoll. Glad you liked your first present.”

“Mmmm, is my birthday. Big one-oh-oh,” Steve said. He’d been looking forward to whatever Buck had planned; downside of having his birthday after Bucky’s was whatever Steve did for him, Buck would do a million times over for Steve. He honestly didn’t know whether to expect a low-key day together or a marching band playing _Star Spangled Man_ wherever they went. 

Then Steve’s brain caught up to him and he cracked an eye open. “Wait. First?”

“Well, yeah, I didn’t make breakfast for nothing. What’s a better chaser to an orgasm than all your favorite foods?”

“Another orgasm,” Steve ventured.

Bucky’s easy grin turned sly. He nipped at Steve’s jaw before hauling him out of bed and swatting his ass. “Breakfast first.”

Steve, for some foolish reason he couldn’t identify, knew full well that Bucky making breakfast meant pulling out all the stops, but he still stopped short at the spread covering their table and breakfast bar. He’d made enough to feed a small army, or two relatively hungry supersoldiers if one of them was post-orgasm. Considering that was exactly the situation at hand, Steve pulled out his chair, dragged the plate of pancakes forward, and dug in. A steaming mug of tea appeared at his wrist, and he grinned as Bucky sat beside him to devour his own breakfast. The man looked like sin itself, staring at Steve with those gorgeous stormy eyes as he bit into an apple, or suggestively licking a stray drop of honey from his plush lips. 

Fuck it. Today was Steve’s birthday, and he could have whatever he damn well wanted. He pushed the table away and reached out for Bucky, pulling him in for a sticky sweet kiss. Bucky’s mouth split into a grin and it was Steve’s turn to lick at Bucky’s lips, tasting rich honey and warm coffee wrapped around the particular flavor that was just Bucky. He moaned, abandoning his chair in favor of straddling Bucky’s lap. Steve’s cock had taken no time getting back to attention, throbbing between their bodies as Bucky deepened the kiss, rolling his hips slow and easy, teasing. 

Bucky dragged the back of Steve’s boxers down, slipping a hand inside and cupping his cheek. Steve nipped at Bucky’s ear, pressing his hips forward, and Bucky slipped a finger into Steve, then another. “That what you want, baby?” he asked, voice deep enough Steve felt it where they were pressed chest to chest.

“Oh, god, yes,” Steve groaned. The cool grip of Bucky’s left hand held Steve still as Bucky worked to open him up with his right.

“Hmmm, much as I love you panting in my lap, Stevie,” Buck began. He didn’t bother finishing the sentence. Instead, Steve automatically wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist as Bucky hoisted him up, and the sound of plates hitting the floor rang out as Bucky tossed Steve onto the table. Steve whimpered as Bucky withdrew his fingers, divesting Steve of his boxers and shucking his own off in the process. Bucky claimed his mouth again, biting at Steve’s bottom lip as he went right back to fingering him, adding a third. 

Steve caught Bucky’s tongue with his teeth, sucking hard as a shiver raced down his spine. Bucky’s fingers curled, rubbing against Steve’s prostate, and Steve arched, crying out in pleasure. He felt the flush in his skin, his cock slick with precum, growing lightheaded as his blood rushed downward.

“You’re goddamn gorgeous, Stevie,” Bucky crooned, still bracing Steve’s hip. “Love seeing you like this, all eager and wanting. Makes me wanna give you the world wrapped up in paper and tied with a bow.”

“Please, Buck,” Steve begged. “Don’t want the world. Just you. Please.”

Bucky grinned, removed his fingers, and pushed the head of his dick into Steve. “You sweet-talker.” He chuckled when Steve moved, hips flexing, demanding more. Bucky, of course, obliged. 

Steve lit up from the inside out, scrambling for purchase on the table but ultimately fisting his hands in Bucky’s dark curls before scraping his nails down Bucky’s chest. In response, Bucky bit into Steve’s shoulder, fucking into him hard. The table creaked beneath their weight, shaking ominously. Steve didn’t care if it shattered; he wanted Bucky, all of him, and Bucky wanted him back. He ate up every delicious moan and cry Steve made, licking into Steve’s mouth to get every last precious sound.

Every nerve in Steve’s body burned, pushing toward that sweet release. His thighs shook as he wrapped them around Bucky’s waist, pulling him closer as he once again cupped his face. Steve kissed him, sloppy and graceless, keening with every thrust that sent Bucky into him, that grazed his untouched cock. As if reading his mind, Bucky slipped his left hand between them. Smooth metal plates enclosed Steve’s oversensitive flesh. Oh, god, yes.

“Oh, Buck,” he groaned, gasping. Steve caught the hitch in Bucky’s breath that meant he, too, was close. Bucky rocked forward, burying his face in Steve’s neck as he came, Steve right behind him, stars sparking at the edges of his vision. Between the feeling of Bucky filling him up and the rush of his own orgasm, Steve stayed under for a several long, blissful moments, floating in that wonderful dark place. 

He woke to Bucky holding him against his chest, stroking his hair, pressing little kisses to Steve’s hairline. They’d overturned the dining room table, shattering the rest of the dishes. Fuck it. They’d buy more. Then Steve noticed the not-insignificant crack running through the wood. He chuckled, heady with pleasure and love and basking in the warmth of the man beneath him.

“What's so funny?” Bucky asked, jostling him a little.

“You know wrecking shit is my favorite hobby, Buck. Gotta taste for destruction.”

Steve could hear the devious smirk in Bucky’s voice. “Is that right? Then you're gonna have a real good day, babydoll.”


	2. Ten Through Twenty: Quick and Dirty

Steve’s breath rushed out as Bucky worked him over, Bucky’s thighs on either side of Steve’s waist, the full weight of him holding Steve down. He clawed into the back of the leather sofa, abs shaking as he tried to hold on. Buck had somehow chilled his metal hand and had been torturing him for the better part of an hour, but once he’d pinned Steve to the couch, Buck drove him hard and fast, making him come over and over again. The first six rounds were currently smeared across his stomach. He’d come dry twice, and afterward, Bucky leaned down, kissing him sweetly, but refusing to let up. Instead, he’d slicked up his metal palm, smoothing his right hand over Steve’s chest.

“C’mon, baby,” Bucky purred. “Lemme see you come again. I know you can do it.”

“Oh, Buck. Ah-“ Steve groaned, hips jerking. His fingers tore into the back of the couch, his other hand digging into the armrest. All those lovely, sparkling feelings had burned away into over-sensitivity. His blood burned, evident in the flush from his cheeks to his knees, his cock throbbing in Bucky’s hand. He shook his head.

“I thought you could do this all day.”

Steve chuckled, more huff than anything. “I guess. The serum didn’t. Take you into consideration.”

Bucky kissed him again, shifting his weight so he knelt between Steve’s legs, Steve’s knees bent on either side of Bucky’s hips. “How ‘bout I give you a hand?”

“Six hand jobs. Not enough?” Steve panted, tilting his hips nonetheless.

“Not nearly. We got a long way to go, you and me.”

It was Steve’s turn to reach up for Bucky, slotting their mouths together. He still tasted sweet from breakfast, and Steve couldn’t help but nibble Bucky’s lower lip. He felt Bucky smile against him.

“Come on, Stevie. I wanna watch you light up.”

He brushed his nose against Bucky’s cheek. “Already burning for ya, Buck.”

Steve shuddered as Bucky slid his metal fingers back inside him. They were still cool, a strange counter sensation teasing over his prostate as Bucky’s warm right hand stroked his length from crown and balls and back. The armrest creaked in protest as Steve threw his head back, mouth open in a silent moan. Bucky kept perfectly still as Steve’s breathing evened out.

“All right, babydoll? That feel good?”

“God, yes,” Steve moaned, heat pooling in his belly, his thighs shaking around Bucky’s hips. He lasted another second before arching up, cock twitching as his release collected on his abs. Bucky didn’t let up. All the sparkling pleasure rapidly turned on him, the pressure unbearable. Steve questioned how much more he could take when he felt Bucky’s warm tongue against his chest, circling one nipple, then the other. Teeth nipped at his collarbones, plush lips sucked at his neck, and Steve shuddered as Buck made his way as low as he could.

“Oh, Stevie, you don’t know how fucking gorgeous you look right now. Gimme one more, baby. I promise I’ll take care of you, sweetheart, just gimme one more.” 

Bucky dipped his tongue against the mess on Steve’s belly and Steve felt the leather on the back of the couch give as he clenched his fist and--impossibly-- came again. Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt Bucky slide his fingers out and settle Steve’s hips on the cushions. From jaw to legs, every muscle in Steve’s body ached; even his toes refused to relax. He groaned as Bucky coaxed his head up, his right hand cradling Steve’s neck.

“That’s it, Stevie. Come on, little sips, okay?” he said, and Steve let him tip the water into his mouth. A few swallows later, Bucky set the glass on the coffee table and Steve felt something soft and warm against his skin.

He managed to open his eyes enough to watch Bucky run the washcloth across his skin, gently moving over his chest and stomach, mopping up the mess Steve had made of himself before lightly cleaning his softening cock. Steve huffed a laugh, glad they’d gone with leather instead of a fabric couch. Closing his eyes, Steve leaned back and let Bucky tidy him up, content to bask in the warmth and bliss.


	3. Forty-Seven: Body Paint

“When’d you learn to do this?”

“Last year. Some asshole gave me a massage for my birthday. I picked up a few things.”

Steve chuckled, head pillowed on his arms. The studio floor felt great against his skin as Bucky kneaded into his shoulders and back. He’d panicked when Bucky dragged him in here, but after Bucky promised no damaged canvas, Steve happily sprawled on the hardwood. Bucky’s hands slipped down Steve’s back and over his hips before vanishing entirely. Steve whined, absolutely indignant.

Bucky swatted his ass. “Punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve replied. He felt Buck lean back. Something dragged across the floor, and then Bucky drummed his metal fingers on what sounded like a box. Steve wiggled, not bothering to hide the smug grin in his voice. “You get me another present? Does this one involve restraints? Maybe a toy or two?”

“You're fucking filthy in your old age, Rogers.”

Steve listened as Bucky opened the box. Several bottles hit the floor with a dull thunk, and Steve furrowed his brow until the recognized the click and rustle of paint brushes. He grinned harder. “Little paint by numbers?”

“Something like that,” Buck answered. “Figured half way to a hundred—more or less—I outta let you have a breather.”

Steve hummed, wiggling his hips. God bless the supersoldier refractory period. He’d lost count somewhere in the twenties, but he’d take all this affection and attention and anything else Bucky was willing to give and enjoy every moment. Especially these little pauses. Steve felt pretty sure Bucky knew he was hopelessly in love with him despite how absolutely subtle he’d been about the whole thing, and Bucky had made the lulls in the action sweet and tender and aching. He love it as much has he’d loved the forty-six exceptionally creative ways in which Buck had fucked his brains out.

The first brush of soft bristles along his spine sent a shiver through him. Bucky traced one shoulder, then the other, ghosting the brush up and down the length of Steve’s neck. “You were always better at portraits. Wasn’t a thing I loved more than seeing you all paint splattered, glowing with pride at whatever you’d done that day.”

“Even when you rubbed your hands raw try’na get the paint outta my one good shirt?”

“Maybe a little less on those days,” Bucky said, laughter in his voice. The brush left Steve’s skin and he heard Bucky unscrewing the lids from the jars. Instead of acrylic or oil paint, Steve detected something sugary and vaguely tropical. “What’s your favorite color, baby?”

“Mmmm, the color of your eyes. All stormy gray and gorgeous,” Steve purred.

“Sap.” Steve chuckled, and Bucky drew a line of paint down Steve’s back, following it with his tongue. “Did I mention the paint is edible?”

“Oh, god.” Oh, fuck _yes_. Steve’s toes curled as Bucky painted another design at the join of his shoulder and neck. The application of teeth was entirely welcome and wanted. Steve would let Bucky eat him alive, and all Buck would have to say was please. He dropped a line of sweet little kisses across Steve’s shoulders before liberally applying more paint.

Steve felt it go sticky against his skin and he wiggled a little more, chuckling. “Gonna need a shower after this one, Buck,” he said. “I’m gonna be a mess.”

“Now, Stevie, I’d have to be some kinda genius to plan something out _that_ well,” Bucky mumbled against his skin, laughter in his voice.

Steve closed his eyes, enjoying the light caresses, trying to follow Bucky’s lines and determine if they made a picture. He felt the curves of a heart, but the rest amounted to nothing. Paint glided smoothly over his shoulders and sides, the brushes tickling his legs and traveling back to his hips. Bucky blew a cool stream of against the paint, causing Steve to shiver again, spreading his legs a little wider. 

The second the paint brush touched the floor, Steve know what would happen: Bucky cupped his ass cheeks in each palm and opened him up, tongue darting against his hole. Still loose from the number of times Bucky had already fucked him, Bucky hardly had to work to get what he was after. Steve moaned as Bucky slide a finger in, crooking it just right.

“God, Stevie. Love the sounds you make when I eat you out.”

Whimpering, Steve got his knees under him, granting Bucky a better angle. Only thing he loved more than Buck eating him out was Bucky filling him up. His dick, his cum, Steve wanted it all. Despite Buck promising a “breather,” Steve’s cock had developed an interest in the proceedings, half-hard and heavy between his legs. He wouldn’t mind another fucking, but Steve knew better than to redirect his boyfriend when he had his mind set. 

“Don’t come,” Bucky muttered, breath hot against Steve’s thighs. Maybe he had an iron willpower but Steve did not.

Clenching his fists, Steve rode wave after wave of heat and pleasure, rocking his hips back and urging Bucky deeper. And Buck took every queue—licking, sucking, nipping at the swell of one cheek, then the other. Steve’s cock hit his belly, dripping from the wonderful torment. Bucky didn’t touch him and he made no sign of stopping.

“Buck,” Steve panted. “Gimme a hand here, pal?”

Bucky shook his head. “Can’t do everything, baby.”

Steve shivered. Technically, he could brace himself on one arm, but that would shift him one way or the other, and while Bucky would definitely adapt, Steve enjoyed his current position immensely. He could come like this. He’d done it before.

Unfortunately, Buck was in no rush to get Steve off. He took his time, slow and gentle; Steve hated him a little for it, but he couldn’t hold back the glorious sounds he made to punish him, so Steve shoved his hips back instead, demanding more. 

What had to be an hour later, Steve was a panting, writhing mess, teeth sunk into his lower lip. Bucky hadn’t said come, so Steve held on, shaking as his dick throbbed against his belly. Bucky’s right hand rubbed along Steve’s side. Bucky let up, and Steve whimpered pitifully at the loss. 

“Had enough? You can come whenever you want, baby,” Bucky crooned. Then he went right back to work, as slow and patient as ever.

The sparks had long since merged into full-blow fire and Steve tightened every muscle he could, chasing the orgasm that had lurked so close a moment before. He dropped his head onto his arms, rocking back onto Bucky’s tongue. He was so goddamn wet, Bucky’s tongue and fingers working against his hole, brushing his prostrate and sending another way of heat through him.

Bucky must have taken pity because his right hand ghosted down Steve’s chest and stopped at his lower belly, lightly pressing against him, and that was it. Steve came against his stomach and Bucky’s hand before his knees gave out and he collapsed. Buck flopped down beside him, drawing him close and kissing him deep. A shaky laugh bubbled up from Steve’s chest. After this round, he needed a fucking nap.

Bucky’s fingers threaded through Steve’s hair, scritching lightly, and Steve dozed off. When he woke, his head was pillowed on Bucky’s chest, Bucky still massaging his scalp. He smiled down at Steve, the corner of his mouth twisted up in a wry grin. “Welcome back, Stevie.”

Steve tried to snuggle closer, but the paint on his skin made moving uncomfortable. He grimaced. “I’m disgusting,” he muttered.

“You’re beautiful,” Bucky answered. He disentangled himself, stood, and then picked Steve up in a bridal carry. Steve couldn’t help his giggle as he tossed his arms around Bucky’s neck.

“So,” Steve drawled, “about that bath?”

“I’ll get the tub ready, you pick out one of those stupid bath bombs,” Buck teased.

“You love those stupid bath bombs.”

“Yeah, I do.”


	4. Eighty-Two: Riding

Steve smoothed his hands across Bucky’s chest and down to his hips. He realized, despite being well into the double-digits now, that he’d done very little touching during his birthday sextravaganza. Not that he hadn’t touched Bucky at all, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to relish it, what with Bucky fucking him six ways to Sunday. But now Bucky was in his lap, Steve buried deep inside him and every inch of his gorgeous body on display. Rolling his hips drove his cock further in, and Bucky bit his bottom lip, barely containing his moan. Perfection. Steve planned to keep him here for hours, giving as good as he’d gotten.

“You’re a work of art, Buck,” Steve said, running his hands along Bucky’s sides. 

Buck shivered. “Guess you’d know.”

A smirk curled Steve’s lips. “Yeah, I would. This is one of my favorite sights.” And he planned to make it even better. “I love the way you light up when you ride my cock. You’re so warm and tight. Watching you move, feeling you work my dick, that gorgeous flush on your skin: best thing in the world. Well, second best,” Steve added. He trailed his hand from Bucky’s side to loosely fist it around Bucky’s cock.

Bucky thrust into his hand, seeking friction even as he laughed. “Oh yeah? What’s the best, babydoll?”

“Mm, you’ll find out.” Steve removed his hand, placing it right back on Bucky’s waist. “You’ve been so good to me, Buck. So loving and attentive. Plus that thing you did with your tongue. Gotta teach me that one, pal,” he added, shaking his head in wonder. Steve couldn’t even describe to other than Bucky had magically set him on fire and turned him into a supernova and made his bones dissolve all at the same time. He turned his wistful grin into disappointment.

Bucky took the bait like a champ. “Aw, why the long face?”

“I just think it’s a shame you couldn’t keep up. To be honest, Buck, I had my doubts about this hundred orgasm thing, but we’re on what, eighty?”

“Eighty-two.”

“Eighty-two,” Steve repeated. “Eighty-two and you’ve only come a dozen times? Maybe twenty?”

Bucky bowed his head, trying to hide his smirk. “Today’s about you, sweetheart.”

“Doesn’t seem right, is all. Today’s about me, yeah, but if we’re going for a record of all my turn-ons, fantasies, and favorites,” Steve said, rolling his hips again, shifting just right to rub against Bucky’s prostate. Bucky's mouth rounded, the most sinful moan sounding from deep in his chest. “Then you should know how much I love watching you take your pleasure, _sweetheart_.”

This time, Bucky tossed his head back and laughed. “I’m surprised we got into the eighties before your punk ass decided to take the reins. Always were bossy in bed.”

“S’why you love me,” Steve replied, rolling his hips harder. He almost hated to interrupt that glorious laugh with all that moaning. Almost. When Bucky moved his left hand toward his own dick, Steve caught it and held tight, capturing his right wrist a moment later. “Nope. I want you just like this. You’re gonna come on my cock.”

Bucky parted his lips for a snide comment and Steve rocked into him again. His efforts were reward with a tremble in Bucky’s shoulders as he nearly pitched forward. Steve released Bucky’s wrists and Buck planted a hand on either side of Steve’s head, leaning low.

“Where’d you learn to talk like that, Rogers? That’s filthy,” he rasped. Bucky’s tongue darted out to lick at the shell of Steve’s ear. “I love it.”

“Some jerk from Brooklyn. Real asshole, that guy.” Said jerk clenched his glutes, forcing a moan from Steve. “That’s it, sweetheart. Work yourself on my cock. God, you’re so good, Buck.”

Huffing a laugh, Bucky began moving in earnest, braced against the floor. Steve let his hands roam over Bucky’s body, feeling every muscle flex with each thrust. His fingers danced down Bucky’s spine, finally stopping where Bucky stretched around Steve’s cock. A shiver jolted through him; Buck’s breath hitched in a way Steve knew meant he was close. It wouldn’t take Steve long either.

He pushed against Bucky’s abs, forcing him upright, and then he clamped down on Bucky’s hips. “That’s it, sweetheart. So good for me. You wanna gimme the best gift?”

“Thought you said. You liked when I took my pleasure,” Bucky panted.

Steve carded his fingers through Bucky’s dark locks, gentle. “I do, but what I love best is that look on your face when I come inside you, the way you bite your lip, the way you moan for me. I love how wrecked and fucked out you look sprawled in my lap with my cock still buried deep. Do it, Buck. Lemme see it.”

Bucky rocked himself harder, once, twice, before he finally came, covering Steve’s stomach. Steve fucking loved this man so goddamn much, and the sight of Bucky’s orgasm shoved Steve right over the edge, white hot bliss filling his veins as Bucky pressed a sloppy kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. Bucky kept moving his hips, and Steve came a second time, less forcefully. 

“That was great,” Steve slurred. “We gotta do that more often.” He reached up to pat Bucky’s cheek. “Too bad we already broke the harness. Woulda been useful.”

Bucky rubbed his face against Steve’s chest, deliberately snuggling up to him all sticky. “You’re such a punk.”

Steve grinned, moving his patting to Bucky’s ass. “Damn right.”


	5. One Hundred: Fireworks

Steve couldn’t imagine at what point Buck managed to arrange and light one hundred candles. Focusing on anything apart from the way they fit together, Steve in Bucky’s lap, Bucky’s lips on his, was more than Steve could handle. The curtains were pulled back from the large picture window in their living room, the glow of the candlelight reflecting in the glass against night sky. 

Exhaustion lingered in the back of Steve’s mind; he felt physically and mentally overwhelmed, but the thought of moving away from Bucky was too much. He’d never grow tired of kissing this man, holding him, touching him, having him safe, sound, and whole. Steve whimpered into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky broke the kiss, pressing his nose to Steve’s and whispering gently as he stroked Steve’s hair.

“You are, without a doubt, the best thing in my life, Steve,” Bucky said, voice soft. Steve shivered with it, his heart too full already. “My impatient little spitfire, my ruthless punk, nice as pie until someone pissed you off and then god help that poor sonovabitch. You’re a whirlwind, and you’re all mine.”

“Always have been,” Steve murmured. He’d fallen for Buck hard and fast, and even a century later, his heart swooped the same way when Buck looked at him. “You’re wrong, though. Wasn’t nice.”

“You were to me. I loved you short and scrawny with too much inside to contain. I loved you paint-splattered. I loved you bruised and bloody, and I loved you whining when I patched you up. I loved you sick and well and all the in-betweens.”

Steve sighed as Bucky kissed him again, deep and full, before pressing his lips against the line of Steve’s jaw. He never wanted this to end. If it was the death of him, Steve would willingly drown. When Bucky spoke next, Steve felt the words and their shape on Bucky’s mouth against his skin.

“I loved you angry, scared, determined. I loved you as confident leader and worried best friend. I loved you taller, and stronger, and healthy.”

And Steve remembered the look on Bucky’s face the first time he really saw Steve’s new body. He’d worried Bucky would hate it, that he was too changed, but Buck had smiled, embraced him, and after checking to make certain there were no witnesses, kissed him soft and sweet. Later that night, Buck had marveled at him like he was a miracle, exploring every inch of him with as much love as he’d always done.

Now, Bucky sucked against Steve’s neck, those plush lips trailing down his collarbones. Distantly, Steve felt the swell of his cock and drew in a shaking breath; between the tears in his eyes and the pounding in his chest, it was all too much. This time it wasn’t heat and sparkles and brilliant, building pleasure, but deep, unfathomable love. It was the best pain, and Buck was the balm to soothe him.

He cupped his hands to Steve’s face—one warm, one cool—and held him like Steve was the most precious thing in the world. “I loved you when the world fell down around you. I loved you lost and I loved you uncertain.” He smiled, and Steve caught the glint of tears in those beautiful stormy eyes.

Buck had held Steve up through the worst year of his life, providing a solid place for Steve to land. And Steve was so goddamn grateful for him, for every comforting word and encouraging smile, for every time Buck had walked him to therapy and waited and walked him home. For letting Steve cry and stay in bed, for getting him out of blankets and back into the world. It was nothing he hadn’t done for Buck, but the hardest part had been realizing he was worthy of all that love, and accepting it. Steve sniffled, leaning harder into Bucky’s touch.

He pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “Most of all, Stevie, I love you happy and I love you whole. I love you smiling and laughing. I love you alive. You’ve survived so much, more than any one person should. This is your year, babydoll. You deserve everything you’ve achieved, and you are worth more than I know how to say.”

Steve kissed him hard and Bucky yielded, rocking his weight forward to lay Steve on the floor. Bucky moved against him, a slow roll of his hips, and Steve was gone in an instant, sparks flaring behind his eyes. His whole body buzzed, and Steve felt himself drop into that blissful dark.

Outside the sky lit up in red, white, and blue; gold and green and silver flashed back against the night. Bucky kept kissing him, and Steve whimpered as his orgasm washed through him. 

Buck scooped him up and held him close, giving Steve an unobstructed view of his fireworks. Steve couldn’t tell the real ones from the stars in his eyes. He smiled, spent and sleepy, tilting his head back for one more kiss.

“I’m so lucky,” Steve whispered. “Gave me the best day. Gave me the stars, and I didn’t even ask for them.”

“I’d give you anything and everything, Stevie. Happy birthday,” Bucky said.

With a contended sigh, Steve closed his eyes and melted, bursting with love and wonder for the man beside him.


	6. Dry Cleaning and Redecorating

“Oh,” Steve said, eyes widening as he took in the sight of their apartment. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, I may have gone a little over the top,” Buck answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Padding across the floor, Steve surveyed the damage. A crack ran through the center of their dining table, currently resting on its side along with a pile of dishes and a much abused table cloth. A peek into the kitchen showed one cabinet door broken from its hinges and several jars and containers on the tile. In the living room, pictures hung slanted on the walls, three shelves on either bookcase had collapsed, the leather on the couch was shredded to hell, but the coffee table looked okay. Puddles of dried wax had cooled into the hardwood. Steve didn’t even want to look into his studio.

Blowing out a breath, Steve turned to Bucky, only to find him staring at something behind the couch. Oh god, what else? Bucky bent down and picked up a strip of black leather, ripped from whatever it’d been attached to. With his metal arm, he picked up what was left of one of their chairs. A snort sounded from the other side.

“What is it?” Steve asked.

Bucky straightened, holding up the remains of a red, white, and a blue uniform in one hand, the torn leather and straps of his tac gear in the other. Steve flushed. “It’s a damn good thing we’re retired, Stevie. Don’t think there’s enough left to dry clean, and I’m not sure I could explain why there’s cum all over my suit.”

Steve's flush deepened. “Well, it’s your cum,” he offered. They may have gotten into a little role-play around the thirty orgasm mark and Steve may have insisted on wearing Bucky’s gear and Bucky may have gotten a little overly enthusiastic about the way the straps looked across Steve’s chest. And how form-fitting the pants were. And how fucking hot Steve looked in eyeliner. And maybe Steve had done his best to channel Bucky’s infamous murder strut, resulting in the world’s greatest battle to tear each other’s clothes off.

Maybe.

“Uh-huh,” Bucky said, unimpressed as he turned over the remains of his tac gear. “Baby, this ain’t all mine.” He poked at what, at one point, might have been the tac pants. “That’s definitely all you.”

Steve shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “I kept that outfit for seventy years, Buck. Ain’t like you didn’t get what you wanted.”

“You stole it from a museum,” Buck countered. “And in my fantasy, you were wearing it, and I was sucking off Captain America in all his red, white, and blue glory. In the sex dreams,” Bucky added, casting a sly glance at Steve, “you were holding a meeting and I was deep throating you under the podium.”

Steve would never stop blushing again. “I’m sure there are other museums I could rob,” he blurted, causing Buck to laugh. “But what are we gonna do about this?” Steve gestured to the chaos, poking at a stain on the floor. Holy shit, they’d really done a number.

“We should move,” Bucky answered, crossing the room to sling an arm around Steve’s shoulder. “Pack it up, buy a new apartment. Leave this one as our sex den.”

“That’s a terrible idea. You know how much Clint likes just showing up. He’s either gonna think there was a fight—“

“Or walk in on us fucking. Yeah. Okay, bad plan,” he concluded. Bucky sighed. “Guess that means we’re going shopping. I fucking hate shopping."

"To be fair, Buck, we'd still have to buy new stuff if we'd moved, so..."

Bucky groaned. "Can't we just go back to bed?"

"We need to burn those sheets. And we broke the bedframe."

Hanging his head, Bucky gave the most long-suffering of sighs and moved toward the door. Steve grinned. He loved renovating.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me [on Tumblr!](http://lizzieharker.tumblr.com/)


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